Diamonds are a girls best friend
by KMPcool
Summary: Diamond is an artist with a crush on everybody's favrite pitcher. Forget the rules for once and enjoy the ride. Yeah it's a Kenny story.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own anyone but Diamond.**

We had never really talked to each other. He was a pitcher, but not just any pitcher the best pitcher in town. I was a girl who painted perfectly. I grew up in a family with 5 brothers and I was the youngest. I had straight auburn hair that I pulled into a lose braid and dull greenish eyes.

"Diamond!" Joseph called up the stairs. He was the oldest at 19 years old. Owen was the next one, 17 years old. Damien was 15, then the twins Alex and Jeremy were 14. I was 12 years old.

"What?" I asked looking up from my mural. I was painting a mural of one of my brother's old baseball cards. It was of someone named Babe Ruth, I don't know.

"When did Dad say he was coming home?" Joseph asked.

"I don't know I've been up here all day." I replied.

"It's too hot for you to do that," Owen stated. I didn't really care all that much about the temperature I only cared about getting this picture done.

"Well I'm ordering a pizza," Joseph taunted. I finished a few strokes and then decided that was a good place to stop. The card had been painted but I still needed to do the background.

"No mushrooms!" I called walking down the stairs. Mushrooms were gross.

The next day

I walked towards the old dusty baseball diamond that had allowed me to create some of my best works. They called it the sandlot. Kenny played there and he was good. We had never really talked and from what I had known about him, we had nothing to talk about. A bunch of boys in a little league uniform stopped in front of me.

"Hey Diamond haven't seen you in awhile, maybe you could get Damien to play for us again?" Their leader said.

"Maybe but he hasn't had very much free time since mom was diagnosed," I said.

"How is your mom doing?" The leader asked.

"She's gotten worse," I sighed.

"I'm sorry," The leader said truthfully apologetic. He was about my age and Damien had taken him under his wing when he was 7 and this kid had been 4.

"She'll be fine by Christmas," I sighed. That's what she always said.

"See ya," The leader mumbled.

"Yeah," I muttered. We walked in different paths and I hopped into an old oak tree. I started sketching a dog. It looked like a cross between a German Sheppard and a Rottweiler. It had sharp fangs and was smiling with innocent eyes. I didn't know whether to adore or fear my creation. I heard the trampling of footsteps and hid. It was only Benny but these guys were not ones to mess with. I knew each one by name. There was Benny a real baseball prodigy according to Damien at least, then there was Ham a real bully if you ask me. Squints who's a full on pervert, Yeah yeah he talks a lot, Bertram a weird kid. Timmy and Tommy a little weird as well I'll give you that, Scotty was the only real nice boy on the team. Of course there was Kenny as well.

These guys were not the type of people to mess with when they were mad. Somehow I think having a girl on their field would make them mad, luckily though once they started playing they got really into the game. Naturally once they started playing I started drawing.

I needed inspiration so I looked up. Kenny pitched and there it was. I took a mental picture and set pencil to paper. Drawing his curved arm, and twisted body, wasn't altogether hard. I roughly sketched the pitcher's mound and the background of trees and the fence. By the time they left for the day the sun had already started to dip into the horizon. I waited for them all to leave before I hopped down from the old oak. Scotty was the only one still there. Which I hadn't realized until he noticed me and it was too late to hide in a nearby bush.

"Hey what were you doing?" Scotty asked as I snatched my sketch book. I didn't acknowledge him. "What were you doing up in that tree?" Scotty questioned pointing at my past hiding place.

"Watching the game from the best seat in the house of course!" I lied enthusiastically.

"What's that then?" Scotty asked pointing at my sketch book which I desperately hugged in my arms.

"Uh it's my sketch book," I replied. "You can look through it if you want," I said handing it over. He flipped through it, examining each picture.

"You're really good, if you want tomorrow I could introduce you to the guys," Scotty offered.

"Mm no, I don't think that would help ether of our causes," I replied shooting down that idea.

"Okay, so what should I do?" Scotty asked.

"Pretend like this never happened. We never met," I said.

"Okay but what's your name any way?" Scotty asked.

"Diamond," I replied.

"I'm Scotty, nice to not really meet you," Scotty said. I smiled a little we walked home somewhat together. He lived in a very pink house, like baby girl pink. I walked into my house and ran upstairs to finish my mural.

The card on the mural was in varying shades of brown and dark orange with some reddish highlights. I decided to use a cream color and a beige color to make the background to look like a creased cloth. It was very detailed when it was finished.

"Dinner time!" Owen said walking into my room. "Damien got to you too much," He laughed noticing my latest canvas mural.

"It's not funny! Besides I worked on those posters for your band when you needed me to," I complained.

"True but tonight we're having ribeye steak," Owen teased. I loved ribeye steaks I really did.

"Dad's blitzed again?" I asked. The smile faded from Owen's face and he nodded in shame. "Figures, he almost always drunk," I sighed shaking my head.


	2. Chapter 2

**I have never owned the Sandlot nor do I plan to. **

**Now On with the much anticipated update!**

I don't think Scotty knew what I meant when I said 'pretend like this didn't happen' but we must have gotten a different message. He got a stare-at-the-tree-while playing-baseball idea, which by the way even I know to be a bad idea. While I got don't come for a week and hope for the best. Yeah Scotty had other plans than that too, not fun I promise.

"Diamond since when have you known the sandlot boys?" Joseph asked standing in the doorway. I got rattled by that, and splattered my new canvas with dull red and gray paints.

"Never," I replied in a huff.

"Get a grip, Diamond, it's only a canvas. They're down stairs," Joseph said. I turned to him as wide eyed as a bug. "Hurry before Damien finds them!" He joked.

"It's not funny!"I said slapping him. I went downstairs.

"Hi," I said unsure of why 9 boys were in my living room. "What do you need?" I questioned as calmly as humanly possible.

"Scotty told us you were a good artist," Benny stated for the group.

"Naturally," I mumbled. "Do you want to see the stuff?" I asked.

"Yeah yeah hopefully it lives up to Scotty's claims," Yeah Yeah proclaimed.

"It's better than he could ever paint it to be," I replied quietly. I took all nine of the boys into my room/studio. My sketch books were piled on my white nightstand. They were all naturally drawn to the one wall where junk wasn't piled up.

"You paint that?" Kenny asked, pointing at the mural of a colorful lush rose garden surrounded by a white picket fence.

"No I'm not that good, yet at least. My Mom painted it when she found out I was going to be a girl," I explained. "I've painted everything on canvas, and I sketch a lot so all of those books are filled," I added pointing around the room.

"You painted this?" Benny asked pointing at my black and white landscape oil painting.

"Yeah, I mainly use black and white sometimes other contrasting colors but not often," I explained. "Sometimes I use only colors of the same hue which is mainly when I paint Damien's baseball cards," I added.

"You paint pictures of baseball cards?" Squints laughed.

"Yeah, and I make twenty dollars apiece for 'em," I stated. That shut him up.

"So you're like, rich?" Bertram asked.

"Not even close, all the money I earn goes through my Dad and he uses half of it before I even know it's in the bank," I replied. By use I mean drink or gamble it away.

"Damien hasn't played baseball in awhile," Benny sighed remembering the days he used to be coached by my brother.

"He's been busy," I shrugged. "With life," I added.

"What's that supposed to be?" Ham asked after opening a sketch book. He was looking at a picture of a mangled, human, skeleton.

"It's a skeleton rearranged into a heart," I stated the obvious.

"Why?" Ham questioned.

"It was a thing I did for a charity," I explained.

"Wow," Scotty said after stealing a glance at the artwork.

"Gruesome," Squints said in minor disgust.

"Who's that supposed to be?" Benny asked nodding towards a slightly tinged painting.

"Um I just forgot her name; anyway she's a lifeguard, I guess. She said she wants to be a model someday," I explained.

"You worked with Wendy Peffercorn?" Squints cried in awe.

"Yeah, I have connections in high places," I replied with a dismissive wave of my hand. It's true; Damien gets me almost any guy in town to cooperate with me, if I ever need it, I also have Phillips who gets a lot of my big jobs in line for me. I heard the distinctive trampling of his footsteps up the stairs. They were almost too steep to be called stairs. Before he could knock I told him to just come in.

"Diamond, the art gallery accepted the rose painting," Phillips panted ignoring his baseball enemies' stares.

"Which rose painting?" I questioned I have more than one.

"The crying rose," Phillips answered puzzled. The crying rose was a bright red rose, on a gray woodland background. There was a drop of red spilling out of the rose. Oddly enough it was originally a mistake.

"Obviously," I shrugged. A lot of art shows and galleries wouldn't accept me for at least one reason, (a) I'm too young, or (b) I don't use bright colors. I just don't like using bright colors they're overwhelming.

"Diamond, how do you know this idiot?" Ham inquired abruptly.

"He used to be coached by Damien, and now he helps me sell and showcase my work," I stated somewhat defensively.

"Sometimes it's a hard job too," Phillips defended.

"I use too many neutrals for a lot of people to want my stuff, mainly I just don't like bright colors, they devastate the image and attack people's eyes. My goal is never an attention craving poster," I explained.

"I'll take the crying rose to the art gallery if you give it to me now," Phillips stated. I nodded and grabbed the painting from the corner. "Be careful around them," He warned under his breath. I glared at him. "Or you can take care of yourself, Goya," He stated in defensive fear.

"Goya? What the Hell is a Goya?" Ham questioned as Phillips left.

"He has odd taste," I said bitterly. "Goya isn't a thing; he's an artist, from the eighteenth century, known for his cruel realism, he never beautified anything. He painted what he saw, not what people wanted to see." I explained halfheartedly. Silence fell across the room like a blanket.

"Some of your stuff is gruesome," Kenny pointed out.

"Yeah but it's not true, that's the difference," I stated still pondering how in the world Phillips knew about Goya.

"You romanticism your paintings?" Scotty questioned. Romanticism isn't a verb but I know what he means.

"No!" I objected quickly. "Romanticism is nature stuff, not a lot of my stuff is nature. Mainly I paint people or city scenes," I explained. Truth be told, maybe I do that a little bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own the Sandlot at all. **

"Diamond, it's a perfectly good day, why aren't you outside?" Damien asked. Damien had chocolate colored, loosely curled hair, honey colored eyes, and lightly tanned skin. He was strong, no doubt from all the summers of his beloved baseball. All the girls in town seemed to swoon over him.

"I'd rather be productive and sweaty than just sweaty," I replied sketching a house with pristine corners and unparalleled detail. Except it ended up looking like it was melting into odd angles.

"Diamond, you haven't come out of your room for the last week," Damien complained.

"I have to come out!" I argued.

"But you haven't left the house," Damien countered.

"You haven't been here the last week, what's to say I haven't?" I questioned.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Besides when have I steered you wrong?" Damien pressed with a grin on his face.

"Do I need to start listing?" I asked. Damien isn't exactly trust worthy when he says something will be 'fun'.

"Catch!" Damien called out, tossing me a well worn glove. I did catch it, of course though it's second nature to me.

"I have work to do," I sighed tossing the glove back. Damien caught the glove before it hit him in his face, sadly enough.

"You spend too much time around Joseph," Damien mocked. Joseph was the responsible, working one in the family. I hate myself for thinking it, but sometimes I swear he's a better father than Dad ever was. Before Mom was diagnosed he played football, he was good too, light on his feet, strong arm, overall strength, biceps as big as my thigh. Now he works as a carpet layer for whoever needs it. Damien was pretty much the opposite of Joseph, fun loving and always getting in some type of trouble.

"Maybe you should spend more time with him yourself. Then maybe you'd realize that work is more important than playing baseball," I shot back. This temporarily put a frown on Damien's face and I mentally slapped myself for being so rude.

"Come on, let's play catch, we haven't in awhile and you're going crazy over this," Damien said, relatively unphased by my out lash. He tossed me back the glove and I slid it on my left hand.

"Okay, but you know Mom doesn't want me to play catch, it's unladylike," I agreed. We tossed the ball back and forth a few times in our small backyard before Damien called out "Grounder". He tossed me a grounder which was an easy catch/recovery. The ball was back in his glove in five seconds flat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the great Diamond, daughter of baseball itself, hasn't lost her talent!" Damien exclaimed like a baseball announcer. It was enough to make anyone laugh only a small giggle escaped my lips though.

"Damien! Diamond!" Jeremy exclaimed holding a pot in his oven mitted hands. "Come here! Tell me how this tastes!" He proclaimed. Damien and I gave each other knowing looks.

"What'd you concoct this time?" Damien asked grinning. Alex and Jeremy loved to cook; Alex had more of a sweet tooth and mainly baked, while Jeremy usually concocted savory dishes with a little too much oregano.

"Shredded chicken and pasta," Jeremy stated proudly. "I added a little basil and oregano to it as well," He winked.

"But _I _made a batch of super chocolaty cookies," Alex said proudly. Alex's super chocolaty cookies were chocolate, chocolate chip cookies with chunks of Hershey's bars baked into them. They got in a regular argument over who was the better cook.

"Between the two of them, they're gonna burn the house down," Damien laughed. I laughed in agreement, but also knowing that was a very real possibility.*Buzz* *Buzz* *Buzzzzzz* our doorbell rang with its annoying buzz.

"I'll get it!" I proclaimed running towards the door. I opened it with my right hand. It was the sandlot boys. "Whatcha need?" I asked.

"What's on your hand?" Ham asked. The glove was still on my hand from playing with Damien.

"Damien's old glove," I replied as smoothly as my brushstrokes.

"Hey boys, is there something you need?" Damien asked coming up behind me.

"See I told you guys she don't know nothing," Benny said dismissing whatever they had come over for.

"That implies I know something, double negative," I stated confused.

"The guys thought that you knew how to fallow a game," Benny shrugged.

"Yeah, actually I do," I said.

"How?" Squints asked slightly confused.

"Yeah yeah girls aren't supposed to know about baseball," Yeah Yeah stated smacking his gum.

"I'm related to _him_" I said jutting a thumb in Damien's direction. "It's a trick of the trade after going to three summers of baseball practice," I explained.

"So baseball _has_ given you something," Damien accused. I slapped him with his old glove.

"Well it was nice seeing you," I smiled before closing the door. "Baseball is dumb," I said coldly before pressing the glove into Damien's chest and running up to my room.

"Not it!" The twins exclaimed. They were referring to who was going to cool me down.

See, me and baseball, we have a love hate relationship. Baseball gives me connections to people, or sides of people; I wouldn't have known otherwise, but only to take it away. I fall in and out of love with the sport. It gave me some hope that miracles can happen, only to smash that belief as quickly as it gave it to me. Players lose the ability to productively use their bodies, for America's entertainment. It's quite frankly, sickening.

"Damn Damien, what you do?" Owen asked. Then Owen exclaimed some things absolutely unprintable for the average person. "It's the anniversary!" He exclaimed at the end of a very explicit sentence.

"Shit, I suppose it is," Damien said angry at himself for forgetting. I locked my door, only room in the house with a lock, useful for locking out older brothers. There was a knock at the external door.

"Not the best time Phillips," Owen sighed after answering it.

"I know," Phillips agreed. I couldn't hear anything else…

**Do you people of internet land like family fluff? Please tell me.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own the Sandlot. **

"_I know," Phillips agreed. I couldn't hear anything else…_ until there was a knock on my door.

"Leave me alone," I called through the door my voice shaking.

"Diamond, it's me, please let me in," Phillips begged.

"Why should I?" I questioned pressing my head against the door.

"Because I'm not going to leave until you let me talk to you," Phillips said. I could feel his smile through the door.

"We can talk through the door," I offered.

"No, _we_ need to talk," Phillips said stressing 'we'. How does he always know how to get under my skin? I opened the door a crack, with a shaking hand and stepped away from it. He could come in if he wanted to, but I wasn't inviting him in. He peeked in and saw me curled up in a corner.

"Hey," He sighed coming in and closing the door behind him. I looked up at him blankly. "You know, you should be doing something more than sulking in a corner," Phillips smiled extending a hand. I stared at it for a moment then took it. He pulled me up and twirled me towards him. I can set my chin on his shoulder but just barely, that's about our height comparison. I looked down at my hand, wrapped in his. I felt him smile looking down at me. I abruptly looked up and our lips touched softly. I pulled away quickly out of the, _thing_, it wasn't exactly a kiss. We were completely platonic, business partners at most. There were no sparks, no butterflies, just a hot blush on both of our faces.

"Sorry," I mumbled letting go of his hand. With his newly freed hand he gingerly stroked my hair.

"It's okay, I know you don't like me that way," Phillips assured. He swished us in a spin so we switched places. I relaxed a little and put my head on his chest. "Sometimes though, I wish you did," Phillips sighed. I looked up at him slightly horrified. "Not because I have something against Kenny or anything, it's just he's so lucky and he doesn't even know it," Phillips explained seeing me tense up.

"How did you know about that?" I asked as Phillips twirled me.

"I see how you look at him when they pass by," He answered. "Why'd you lock yourself up here anyways?" He asked as I came back into his arms.

"It's the anniversary," I answered. We swayed in time to silent music.

"Anniversary of what?" Phillips asked cautiously. I slipped out of his grip and sat on my bed beckoning for Phillips to do the same.

"It's the anniversary of," I paused. How do you explain the most tragic thing to ever happen to you? "The first time my dad got really drunk," I explained. He nodded his head as if in understanding, although I doubt he really understood. "He promised he'd never do it again," I sighed. "He still gets drunk though, he gets really drunk weekly. The first time he got really drunk, he wasn't the greatest dad ever," I explained. "Joseph hasn't been the same since, then again none of us have been," I added. "Phillips I-I can't say anything more really, it's kinda been my secret for two years now," I sighed.

"Diamond, you don't have to. If you ever need a place to get away from it, you can always come to my house. I won't ask why," Phillips reassured holding me in one of his arms.

"That's why Joseph works, to get away from Dad. That's what some of my painting money goes, to escaping him. I hate the idea but, we can't stay with him," I sobbed tears spilled out of my eyes, one after the other.

"Diamond, I swear I'll do anything to make sure you're safe," He soothed wiping away my salty tears. I heard the front door fly open and I froze. "Diamond are you okay?" Phillips asked shaking me.

"Lock the door," I begged. My brothers piled into the room and Joseph, who had just recently gotten home, locked my door. Phillips touched my face with his hands worriedly. I looked over at him, he saw a worried four year old girl in the place of a usually calm painter. "Please, just hold me," I begged quietly. He quickly wrapped both arms around my small form and put his chin on top of my head.

"Diamond, you're okay," Phillips soothed rocking me in his arms. "You're beautiful, and perfect in every way, please relax you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Phillips said holding me tighter.

"Come out you useless kids, I know you're here," My Dad slurred. "Diamond, come out honey, I love you," He garbled sweetly. It made my stomach flip and squirm. If I had eaten either of the twins' food it would be in my throat right about now. Phillips rubbed my back in hopes to comfort me, it didn't work, and it only made it worse. Flashbacks attacked me of fiery pain and a knife causing it.

"We won't let him get in here," Damien assured clutching his baseball bat aggressively. Joseph nodded in agreement ready to pounce if Dad got through the door. It took a few hours but eventually we heard Dad's snores carry up the staircase.

"Diamond, you should get to sleep. You look tired," Joseph instructed. "Phillips your mom's probably worried, you should get home," Joseph added. Phillips nodded and released me. I felt abandoned, cold, and empty. Before Phillips got to my door, Damien stopped him.

"Thanks," Damien whispered putting a hand on Phillips shoulder.

"Yeah, if you need anything, you know where to find me," Phillips stated flatly. I opened my latest sketch book and drew a bottle of amber liquid and drew its shadow. Inside the shadow I made dark silhouette of two people, one covering their head in a small ball and another attacking the smaller figure.

"Diamond, go to sleep," Joseph soothed, sitting by me. I stared at him waiting for the next words. "I love you Diamond," He sighed kissing my forehead.


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own the Sandlot**

"Diamond, wait up," A soft voice said from behind me.

"What do you need?" I sighed, turning to face Scotty.

"The guys said if you still want to paint in the tree, you can," Scotty offered. As tempting as that was, I didn't scream yes immediately.

"As long as you keep an eye out for any fly balls we hit over to the tree," Benny added. The group was beginning to circle me.

"You're good," Kenny complemented. I shrugged, it was no big deal. I had a sketch book with me as I always do.

"Thanks, but I have to get to the drugstore, pencils," I stammered.

"We gotta run over there too, baseballs," Squints shrugged, his shoulders elevated above his head.

We walked together; I sorta melted into the group. It was comfortable and far from silent. They were all talking, about this and that. Girls cooed over Benny and a few of the other guys. Benny ignored the affection while the others basked in the glow of it. The store, Vincent's, was small but packed with everything anyone could ever need.

"Diamond, what do you need today, _Дарлинг_?" Alexei greeted. (_darling_). He had immigrated from Russia a long time ago. Vincent, the owner of the shop, had a habit of hiring immigrants.

"Pencils, I already used the last pack to nibs," I replied. "Do you have any ebony pencils?" I asked.

"Yes we do, and your order of charcoal pencils finally came in," Alexei answered.

"Thanks," I replied paying the gray haired Russian. The set of pencils was good, one of each hardness, to dictate how black the line would be. The pencils were slightly expensive but worth it. The guys bought the ball and we left.

I stopped in my tracks as a brunette girl with "perfect" hair and "perfect" nails and "perfect" clothes, walked past. She was Phillips's sister. She considered herself way above me and would commonly show that by causing as much misfortune as possible. Unfortunately, I was easily noticed among the guys. She narrowed her perfect eyes and whispered something to her friends.

"Diamond, what are you doing, surrounded by guys?" She mocked with more than a hint of disgust.

The guys noted something was about to happen, so they stopped too. They all recognized the girl, most had classes with her. I was lucky enough to only have classes with her brother.

"What do you want Sarah?" I mumbled.

"That is very unladylike," Sarah pouted. "You wouldn't want me to tell your mother now would you?" Sarah threatened. I stood emotionless. "That would just shatter her terminally ill heart!" Sarah mocked. She crossed the line there; it was enough to make the guys gasp. My stomach fell but I wouldn't show it.

"She's not that sick," was my weak, mumbled, bitter, comeback, she never heard.

"Ignore her Diamond," Ham advised.

"Yeah yeah, she's not worth the breath," Yeah yeah agreed. We left her behind.

"Your Dad's a drunk, and a bad one at that, I know, Phillips told me everything you said," Sarah mocked, as a last ditch effort.

"The bastard," I muttered. Walking a little faster, I was ahead of everyone else. We got to the sandlot and I hopped up into the tree.

"You could have a future as an acrobat," Kenny joked. I forced a small smile and pulled out my sketch book.

I settled on a bird and drew it, flying and free, while a similar bird was locked in a cage, inside of a stone room. The free bird was seen out a window. The stone room had a desk, drapes and banners. The caged bird had a sad eye. I shaded, I added details, and shadows were added realistically. I thanked the renaissance artists for linear perspective and expression.

A ball flew towards me and I caught it not stopping the sweeping of the pencil across the paper, and not looking up. I tossed it back to the waiting boys.

"She caught that, she actually caught that," Ham said in disbelief.

"She's better than any of us thought," Timmy stated.

"She's better," Tommy agreed.

"She's an artist guys, not a baseball player," Benny pointed out, annoyed at the break in the game.

"She may as well be," Kenny stated in semi-awe.

"Yeah yeah, truly," Yeah yeah agreed.

"No, no baseball for me," I stated in a sing-song-y voice. "Everything it gives to me it shatters," I shuddered.

The sun started to dip into the horizon and I swung down, to walk home with the guys.

"I'm sorry about Sarah," Scotty whispered to me, as we walked.

"Its fine, she might be lying anyways," I shrugged. "Her dad works in a bar, that's probably how she got that," I sighed. I got home, only to see Joseph broken and bloody on the couch.

"What happened?" I asked, slightly frightened by the sight.

"Oh, hey Diamond," Joseph managed in gasps.

"Mr. Universe here thought it would be a good idea to get in a fight over lovely, Miss Patty June," Owen explained.

Patty June was very pretty, a lot of guys wanted to marry her, but she would have none of it. Money, strength, looks, none of it mattered to her, and that's admirable. She's 18 but so mature.

"Joseph, you know that's not what she's about," I whined.

"I know, but the guy wouldn't leave her alone I told him to leave her alone and he threw a punch," Joseph replied.

"Damien is probably still out with Sandy and Wendy," Owen sighed. He wasn't dating either girl, he wishes he was dating Sandy but Wendy wouldn't leave the two alone. Damien has a reputation; one girls don't want to be a part of.

"I'm going to go up to my room if anyone needs me," I sighed, knowing no one would.

A few hours later Phillips came so I pretended to be asleep, I'm not terribly gifted at faking sleep.

"Hey, I have some good news," Phillips whispered, sitting at the foot of my bed. I sat up.

"What do you want?" I questioned, with a glare.

"Whoa, where'd this come from?" Phillips asked, slightly worried.

"A world you don't understand," I replied.

"Sounds like it," Phillips said, apprehensively. "Anyways, the hall of fame ordered 3 of your baseball card pictures for 150 dollars each," Phillips explained.

"Really?" I asked hopefully. He nodded. "Oh thank you," I thanked frantically. I hugged him and he chuckled slightly. "Wait, which players?" I asked now worried. I started listing things frantically.

"Calm down Diamond," Phillips laughed, stroking my cheek with his thumb. "You'll be fine," He assured, slowly pressing his lips on my cheek.

"Okay," I whispered into his ear, as I hugged him.

"You're going to fly over there to unveil them, its part of the contract, and they're paying for the flight, room, whatever else comes up," He explained. "I'll be there too, okay," He added.

"Thanks," I sighed. "And I'm sorry about how I was earlier."

"It's okay Diamond, why did you get all defensive?" Phillips asked.

"It's stupid, but Sarah said you told her everything I said and that worked me up, I guess," I sighed.

"You know I'd never do that, besides I know how she can be," Phillips pointed out.

"Like I said it's stupid," I shrugged.

"But you're not," Phillips sighed into my hair.


	6. Chapter 6

**The beast is protecting the rights, I've tried **_**everything**_**, and I still can't get them. :*(**

**And Lilly, I'll try.**

A new girl was moving in next door, she picked up a box and stumbled back onto the driveway. A little kid, looks about six, was running around while swinging around a microphone stand. Why I have no idea. Scotty wandered over, and must have said something. He picked up a box as well. I guess he decided to help. Anyways I have paintings to work on. The Babe Ruth one was done. Now for Lou Gehrig, he's cool and the only ballplayer I know the number of, 4.

Damien always carries that card around with him, and no one knows what that boy is doing or where he is. Maybe one of the Sandlot guys has one. I ran out the door and to the sandlot. I was sure to find some of the guys there.

"Hey Diamond, have you seen Smalls anywhere?" Benny asked.

"Uh, yeah he's at the lavender house next to mine, I'm not completely sure why," I replied a little breathless. "Do any of you have a Lou Gehrig card?" I asked.

"Why?" Ham questioned. I let out a whine before explaining.

"I need it so I can paint." They all gave me weird looks. "I'll pay 5 dollars if anyone has one they'll let me use," I added. They erupted into a loud gargle of voices. Only Benny actually had the card. We quickly exchanged Lincoln for Gehrig. I ran home with the card and outlined it on the canvas.

I dipped my brush into the paint and swirled the dull grayish blue onto the paper to provide a basic background on the card area. Colors appeared on the canvas, peach, white, navy, dull tan. Cream and a light tan would make up the satiny background. The tan made up creases and folds, depressions, cream, the opposite.

There was a knock on the door. I was done, so I put the brush down and answered it. The door opened easily. Joseph must have oiled the hinges it didn't squeak.

"Hey, can I help you?" I asked the new girl.

"Uh, I just came by to say hi," She stammered.

"I'm Diamond, you got a name?" I asked.

"Oh uh, yeah, sorry, I'm Dana," Dana supplied. Her chocolate colored hair was swept into a side bun. She was small, maybe 4'2" at most. I'm average at 4'4". She was pale, definitely not a California native. Her brown eyes had honey around the pupils.

"I could show you around town, later today or tomorrow, whenever's good for you," I offered.

"Really?" Dana asked her face lit up like a light bulb.

"Yeah, I know this town pretty well I've lived here all my life," I shrugged.

"Cool," She said trying to be casual. "Tomorrow I should be free," She added before leaving. I went up the stairs two at a time, grabbed the baseball card and walked towards the mesh of boys ahead of me. They were drenched in sweat, but smiling. They were chatting as usual, being kids. I handed the card back to Benny and walked back to my house without a word.

Phillips swung by and told me one of the paintings was supposed to be Jackie Robinson, who would be inducted this year. I just needed one of his cards. The background was graphic, black and white, jagged, triangles, smoothed out with gray around the actual card piece of the image.

"Wow, you really are great," Phillips sighed, his head on my shoulder.

"I try to be," I replied, smiling.

"You really are," He said. "I need to get going," He said apologetically.

"It's okay," I stated as he left.

"Diamond," Owen said, walking into my room. "Do you have any friends that aren't guys?" He asked.

"The better question is really if I have friends at all, Owen," I replied.

"What about that new girl next door, why don't you try to be friends with her?" Owen asked.

"I'll try, and I'm already showing her the town tomorrow," I stated.

"Good," Owen accepted. He's worried over something that isn't there.

The next morning I woke up at 4:30, I don't know what possessed me to do so, whatever it was is evil. There was a rustling downstairs and muffled voices carried into my room. I placed my feet gently on the floor, avoiding the creaky boards I memorized the placement of long ago, before Mom was diagnosed. I snuck to the top of the stairs to listen.

"You have to know this is not what they need," The voice sounded like Joseph.

"How would you know what they need?" Another voice questioned, harshly.

"Because I love those kids more than you ever have," Joseph shot back.

"You didn't raise them," The other voice shouted.

"I may as well have, I've always looked out for them, while you just spent your days at bars," Joseph shot back. He was arguing with Dad. There was a smack fallowed by a small croak. "Bastard," Joseph mumbled. I rushed back to my room as heavy steps came up the stairs.

My face fell into the pillow with a soft thud. My whimpering and tears were silenced by the softness of the pillow. If only Mom could still function enough to live with us. She would stop my tears, but I have to stop them myself.

"Come on Diamond, don't you dare cry, you have to be stronger than this, be strong, don't let people see it gets to you," I told myself mentally. "Be strong for everyone else," I told myself. That statement sums up life, be strong for everyone else, it's selfless and it hurts to be strong and happy for everyone else because happiness shouldn't be forced, it shouldn't be for everyone but the happy one. Smiles are strength, not how big biceps are, smiles are, they help, and that's what they're there for, not symbols of happiness but really strength. I've gotten good at fake smiles, no one sees through them, then again no one cares to.

The sunlight hit me like a ton of bricks, it invaded my room and I fell off my bed. I quickly hopped to my feet and went to my dresser. There I pulled out a plaid shirt and some jeans. I slipped on some shoes, unbraided my hair and left. I never talked to my brothers.

Dana was ready to go also in jeans but in a sleeveless orange white and green plaid shirt with olive green flowers overlaying the plaid. Her hair was straight and her bangs swept her eyebrows. She hid her pearl stud earrings in her hair.

"Hey, ready to go?" I asked.

"Yeah what's first?" Dana smiled.

**A.N. I'll try not to make many of these.**

**According to the CPI inflation calculator I used $5 in 1962 = about $38.50 in current U.S. currency. **

**In sandlot terms though that $5 is 5 baseballs with 10 cents left over. Maybe that covers tax. **


End file.
